Hope For The Hopeless
by LadyMarauderette
Summary: Lily and James reflect on how there is no hope that they will ever get together. Based on a song by 'A Fine Frenzy'. Light one-shot.


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Based on a song by the amazing Alison Sudol.

**Hope For The Hopeless**

_Running against the wind  
Playing the cards you get  
Something is bound to give  
There's hope for the hopeless  
There's hope for the hopeless_

He was an annoying, arrogant creature; much in need of deflating that over-sized egotistical head of his. What made it worse was that he probably had every right to be as arrogant as he was. It would not be over exaggerating if someone labelled him infallible; this was a truth that I was forced to live with. Yes, he'd hex people in corridors, steal snitches and run his hand gracefully through that mop of hair in such an irritating manner that within five minutes of his company, you'd start to wonder what in the world was _inside_ that hair. Yet he was undeniably funny, charming to such an extent that even a teacher would wish they could marry the lad, amazing at Quidditch, maddeningly witty, you'd start to wonder if he had some kind of book from where he got all of his comebacks, unquestionably good looking and without a doubt, one of the smartest people in our year.

I had never even considered James Potter a human, one of us. As far as I knew, he was one of the elite; he'd started his school years as a likeable lad, and then grown gradually up the social ladder, his popularity increasing to such a height that there were literally fan clubs based about him (I am told he is unaware of this).

All of these factors had given him a highly inflated head; he walked around like he owned the place, (he probably _could_ own the place if he wanted to, Merlin knew he had that much money), nevertheless he _didn't_, which gave him no right to act that way. He was also recognizably the head of the notorious Marauders. A group of troublemakers, which included three of his best friends. They had still managed to win a place in everyone's heart (besides the Slytherins) by their funny pranks that just lightened things up.

Which is why I had detested him with such a passion.

I suppose I was jealous. Fine. I _know_ that I was jealous. Jealous that I was more or less a wall flower, and there was he, the infallible James Potter, exuding charm and demanding attention without a moment's hesitation from anyone else.

I was the invisible Lily Evans, with the appearance hired assassins would crave, the ability to go by unnoticed was one of my many useless talents, with my tedious red hair and ghostly pale skin.

I stared at him sometimes; I'm ashamed to admit. And nobody noticed, for why would they? I was only Lily Evans, I'd be left alone most of the time, so it was quite interesting to see what things you could get away with when nobody was paying attention to you.

He'd turn around and converse with as many people as possible, laughing, joking, flirting. Answering questions without strain when asked randomly. The way he'd do it so effortlessly made me resent him even more, which of course, increased my secret adoration as well. It was rather unfortunate. I'd be better off just plain hating him.

I wondered if he knew who I was. I'm sure he knew me by face, perhaps was familiar with my name. But would he label me as others did? Would he call me a 'geek' and a 'bookworm'? Titles I very much deserved yet did not appreciate.

A boy as high and mighty as James Potter would never give me a second glance. I craved the attention of a boy whom I loathed, yet admired from afar, and I knew still, he was too good for me, and that there was absolutely no hope that he'd notice me over any of the other girls at this school.

And that was probably, the sad reality of it all.

--

Her red hair was what had caught my attention first. It was wild and unruly. Fiery. It clashed with her skin. I felt like an idiot staring at her like that, analysing the colour of her hair and her skin, noticing what colour socks she had on and how she painted her nails a different colour every week.

She stood out, in a place where everyone blended in with each other.

Lily Evans. Beautiful, perfect, Lily Evans.

Did she know who I was? Of course she did, we'd gone to the same school for six years, been in the same house for six years, been in most of the same classes for six years. Of course she knew me, everyone knew me.

Except that this was Lily Evans, and she somehow didn't fit into 'everyone'. She was someone else, the only one of her kind. She was probably flawless; of this theory I was yet to be proven wrong. She did everything perfectly, because she _was_ perfect. And absolutely, completely, out of my league.

I wasn't one to think like that, I suppose I could say with slight shame that I had a tendency to be an arrogant bastard at times, I was pretty sure of myself. But when it came to Lily Evans, all of that confidence crumbled. Just the sight of her, heart pounding, throat thickening, hand automatically jumps up to the mop on my head! It would be like I'd lose complete control over myself, and adopt the persona of this egotistical arsehole; I'd make a rude joke, flirt with any attractive girl because it would regain some of that confidence back.

I'd never seen anyone pay so much attention in classes before; once or twice I'd have the crazy feeling that perhaps, maybe, _possibly_, she'd been looking at me, or that she'd smiled in my direction. Vain though I was, there was no chance this was true. Knowing Lily Evans, or _not_ knowing Lily Evans, for I'd never held a proper conversation with her before, I imagined her being into sophisticated characters-out-of-Jane Austen-novels kind of men.

Was she a serious person? It certainly seemed so. I'd never seen her laugh really loudly, or just do anything stupid in general. I'd heard some people say that she was a bore, or even an ice queen. But I knew better. There was kindness in those amazing emerald green eyes of hers. She was witty; she always had a comeback for Professor Slughorn, and she was astonishingly smart. She always had books in her hands; she especially liked Jane Austen novels (which leads me to believe that she probably has a thing for some of the male characters). She always _worked._ She needed some fun in her life. What she needed was I, I concluded. Lily Evans needed a bit of James Potter to spice up her life.

I needed her. I wanted to know her. I was completely crazy about her.

I was in way over my head, a girl like Lily Evans wouldn't pay attention to me. If only there was hope for the hopeless.

--

**Okay, so I understand that is rather lame, but I've been obsessed with 'A Fine Frenzy' lately and it just popped into my head. Review?**


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